


Shepherd of the Skies

by BoinkyBonks



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Depression, Falcon Program, Love, M/M, PTSD, Riley's Death, Sam Wilson Birthday Bang, Soldier Riley, Soldier Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-06 01:08:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12200934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoinkyBonks/pseuds/BoinkyBonks
Summary: Sam wasn't trying to find love, but for some reason, he has an uncanny way to find it in all the wrong places. He thought that Riley could be the one to make him feel like to was flying, but when he lost him, all he could feel was the fall.





	Shepherd of the Skies

**Author's Note:**

> I want to give a huge, huge thank you to my artist Butterfly Slinky for the fantastic playlist that goes with this work.  
> Give it a listen:https://www.dropbox.com/sh/fj97zil6u1ytalg/AADrbqO6dPOZZYB2XSASInBla?dl=0

Sam could recall the exact thoughts going through his head whilst being prepped for the beginning and near ending of his life. He mentally encompassed the speed of the peregrine falcon, the strength of the harpy eagle, and the beauty of the golden pheasant.

 

 Sam’s daydreaming about growing the beautiful and silk-like wings of Paradisaeidae diminished from a harsh tug to of his new, robotic and ugly wings to fit his body. Not that he had personally seen the bird he had wished the developers had taken into consideration for the design, his life of service both at home and to his country leaving no room for a trip to New Guinea.

 

He’d always loved birds and dreaming. His mother had, unbeknownst to a nine-year-old, quoted John Lennon with the phrase of, “Samuel, you are a dreamer, but you’re not the only one.” He just thought it poetic, and annoying when she would pull him from his boarder-line drooling stupor while staring out the window. His neighbors caged windows and doors fading along with the rest of Harlem, his mind, instead, taking him to the aviaries he’d seen in books.

 

That’s what made it all ironic… EXO-7 Falcon. How he had long wished to grow wings, to be able to fly away somewhere warm and tropical. Well, he had received wings, and he was somewhere warm (not tropical, but the sand was constantly up his ass so, might as well have been).

 

Once his wings were fitted, his years of service felt worth it. He stood there on a base, multiple people surrounding him and his new partner Riley, with fire extinguishers and medics at the ready, that strong belief began to slowly drain from his body.

 

“You realize we’re the first ones ever to do this?” Sam asked Riley, the other’s smile not fading and his brown eyes not shining any less bright.

 

“Well then, Uncle Sam, let’s make history.” His cocky response seared into Sam’s memory.

 

Truthfully, Riley did make history. He was a much better flyer, though Sam would deny that until his grave (or Riley’s). Within the first two seconds, Riley had at least remained in the air, whilst Sam had taken a nose dive into some cement, groaning before getting back up and attempting to take after Riley, who he could hear laughing from their radio.

 

Once Sam was able to actually fly for longer than a minute that fear left, or at least the adrenaline masked it. How the exhilaration and constant anticipation of soaring in the unknown tickled the back of his neck in a way that was almost ominous. The feeling of total vulnerability. He felt like the first man to explore the skies, that he was an astronaut of his own planet. The surface of the earth no longer his home. The sky was his pasture, and he its shepherd. 

 

Though, Sam would never say that was the first time he had felt what it was like to fly. When asked by his fellow soldiers, he would shrug and say, “It’s nothing special,” and if it was possible, his eyes would land on Riley in secrecy.

 

That, that feeling, was the first-time Sam felt like flying.

 

Riley Underdahl was someone that Sam Wilson initially didn’t like. He was cheery and even in the shittiest of situations could smile or laugh. He once watched him wipe the sweat off his forehead and smile while everyone else was literally vomiting at the 120-degree high for the day.

 

He was funny, too. He laughed at his own jokes but in that endearing “you’re laughing so I’m laughing” type of way. He had trails of a forgotten home, his North Carolina accent tainted with Yankee New Hampshire only to peek through for certain words or phrases. Especially when he spoke of his family.

 

The way his eyes constantly lit up made you think he had someone back home waiting for him. That’s what the other soldiers said, at least, that he had some fine girl just waiting for her soldier to come home to him. Riley always blushed and changed to the subject as soon as he could.

 

Sam didn’t hate Riley because he found him annoying, it was because he found him the opposite. Riley was beautiful, inside and out. His smile crooked but it matched with his gap. He was always so afraid to speak to him in fears that maybe he’d be able to see through Sam’s façade and the “don’t ask don’t tell” would be broken at the growth of his own pupils.

 

The first time Sam and Riley had talked one on one it was whilst they sat waiting to hear why they had both been summoned upon and told to pack their bags. It was a simple thing of small talk but it made Sam’s heart flutter nonetheless.

 

“Wilson, right?” Riley asked as he looked at Sam from his seat two away from his own.

 

“Right. Uhm—“ Sam knew Riley’s name, he had been there whilst they told group stories but didn’t want to seem too eager.

 

“Underdahl, but it’s a mouthful. I guess that’s why my momma gave me such an easy first name. Riley” He stuck his hand out, “Sam” He returned with a small smile.

“So what you’re telling me is I’ve been chosen to fly in a… bird pack?” Riley questioned, eyebrows furrowed at the new information.

 

“That is the basis of what he is saying, yes,” Sam told the other man, sighing at the thought of it.

 

Deep down it was exciting but terrifying. Being able to feel the air, hell, maybe it would cool him down a little. What wasn’t exciting, was everything that he got out of this, everything that this was for was the very thing he feared he’d die with. While he envisioned an amazing experience with bird wings and freedom, he wasn’t free, and he wouldn’t be until his contract was up or he was dead.

 

“Well, I won’t turn down an offer like that, sir.” Riley shot the commanding officer a smile before looking to Sam.

 

“I second that statement, thank you for the opportunity..” Sam told him, standing as the others stood, going to shake his hand.

 

After that day, his mouth tasted bitter. While everyone congratulated the both of them all he could hear was the terms. This was their names now. Falcon. They would work together, always in pairs. They were expected to live together, to eat together, and to move and even share a bunk together.

 

From morning to night they were fitted, trained, and expected to live as Falcon. They lost their names along the way and became the operation, the two of them. Their individuality discarded with the promise to serve and protect. They were in this together, experiments in a new form of combat.

 

With this, Sam found a longing greater than the one he felt for home. He found a want to be with the other man more than just a partner. He found that with every moment they spent together the thoughts of New York got more and more diminished with a different definition of home: Riley.

 

If that wasn’t bad enough, he couldn’t tell Riley he was falling in love with him without fear. So overall, Sam was just in for a ride, and not in a good way. His discreet hints doing him no good, flying so high over Riley’s head you’d think the program was already a success.

 

Sam sat opposite to Riley at a working table, where their meeting had been going on longer than he could even fathom. You’d be surprised how many parts were in a jetpack and they were expected to learn them all so they could perform minor maintenance if needed.

 

The only good thing about the entire meeting was the faces Riley would make to pretend he was paying attention. After being with him for months on end he knew his tricks, much to his dismay. If he was nodding, he had no idea what was happening. Nodding was all he was doing.

 

“So, if they shoot the uhm-- you know. We’ll be able to still fly.” Riley asked if it wasn’t for military training Sam would have lost it.

 

“I’m not sure…” The man giving the presentation told him before going over the basic flying mechanisms on the pack, Sam made sure to shoot Riley a dirty look that broke his years of military training.

 

That’s how their lives had become since the program had started. Presentations and training. They hardly saw the men they used to live with or their typical commanding officers. Their lives they had gotten so used to got flipped turned upside down, and while it was refreshing in some ways, it was hell in others.

Two weeks before they were even able to test the packs was when Sam felt the exhilaration of flying. Sam had been around the block, again and again, he wasn’t a kid, but he remembered what his momma would say when his daddy wasn’t around.

 

“You know,” she’d always start whilst she brushed his sister’s hair. “I don’t know so much if I believe in love at first sight. I can’t say I loved your daddy when I first saw him. I do know, that when he first kissed me that, that was when I told myself ‘I’m gonna marry that man.’ It’s been twenty years and every time he kisses me, I think ‘til death do us part’.”

 

Memories like those of his parents were what made Sam still have faith in love after all of his personal disasters. His parents singing in the kitchen, how his father would look at his mother like she painted the sun and the stars in the sky as a gift to him. How his mother spoke of his father like he was the only person on the planet. How after years without him, she never remarried.

 

He never truly thought he’d feel that, that feeling of pure love. Not lust, but untainted love. Only a few people got that, and he wasn’t that lucky, or so he thought.

 

The both of them sat in the room where they would be getting ready. Neither of them knew these last few weeks would be the last comfort they’d have. Once the packs proved sufficient they would be the eyes and ears from the skies. Having the agility that planes couldn’t they’d prove extremely useful for fighting.

 

“You never told me why you joined,” Riley broke their shared silence, both wondering how long this would last.

 

“I believe in America,” Sam started, “We have a long way to go, but our basis is pretty okay. I fight for a country that mirrors our preamble and hope one day it can be that way.”

 

Riley looked at Sam a moment, a weird look on his face before nodding. “Family thing for me. At least one of the boys go in. My sisters joined, too.”

 

Sam hummed at his response before looking off. He could have followed his daddy, become a preacher, but looking inside himself, how he looked at Riley, he supposed it was good that it was Gideon instead of him.

 

“That’s really poetic, you know,” Riley told him, Sam still feeling his gaze attached to the side of his head, a feeling he wasn’t afraid of.

 

“I can be dramatic sometimes.” Sam somewhat joked, getting a laugh out of the other.

 

“You scared?” Riley’s voice fell quiet, they were alone and had been for a long time, but something like that, as small as asking a feeling could get you in more trouble than you could imagine.

 

For so long they had been commemorated and envied. They were able to have an amazing opportunity, but who knew what would happen. Even with Stark’s fancy suit, who knew if the guy put the things together well. Or if it could really fly.

 

Sam sat a moment, letting his eyes fall back on Riley, “I haven’t stopped being scared since I got here.”

 

That’s all it took. After all of Sam’s pining and codewords he hoped that Riley would pick up on, the only thing the other man needed was honesty. Since they met Sam closed himself off, too afraid that letting Riley in would get him in over his head even more, if that was possible. He had kept his walls up and just a crack is all it took for Riley to catch on.

 

Riley leaned over from his seat, placing his hand on Sam’s cheek before moving anymore. He watched Sam for a reaction that he was afraid to get before leaning in. His mouth ghosting over the other’s, he’d come so far but he was too afraid to put the nail in the coffin. Sam knew this feeling better than anyone. He had literally avoided Riley as long as he could.

 

All he had to do was lean in a little and--

 

That, that was what flying felt like.  How the exhilaration and constant anticipation of soaring in the unknown tickled the back of his neck in a way that was almost ominous. The feeling of total vulnerability. He felt like the first man to explore the skies, that he was an astronaut of his own planet. The surface of the earth no longer his home.

 

Something as innocent as a small kiss made Sam feel more in the clouds than any exo suit could. The adrenaline masking any fear of getting caught. He knew that bravery was the kindest word for stupidity but right now stupidity was the last thing on his mind. The only thing he could think about was the way Riley shifted under his touch to get closer. Sam tried to memorize the way his hand touched his hip in a way that made his stomach ache. He tried to remember the gentle tremble he had whilst he breathed out of his nose. He tried so hard to remember this moment because he wasn’t sure it would ever happen again.

 

Right as Sam went to move closer, a sound separated the two just in time, too. Riley always said he was lucky, “a name as green as the clover,” and even though logically he knew getting caught was just that, his wings being ripped from him felt much worse.

As flying got better, so did Sam’s outlook. Secret touches and hidden glances were their only solace while deployed. When returning home it was the same. Their hidden looks only able to come out of the shadows behind their closed door which they insisted was as innocent as two dudes chilling in a hot tub five feet away.

 

His young dazed imagination couldn’t even imagine this. Riley to him was far more beautiful than any golden pheasant, made his heart race faster than the peregrine falcon, and made him feel as strong as the harpy eagle. By no means was life easy. Very rarely is when you step a foot on a battleground, but they managed together they found their homeostasis. Something that he thought was an irrational fling from lack of physical contact turned into something he didn’t know he would ever experience, love.

 

 

As time passed, so did the ideas of re-enlisting with the end of their contract. With the end of their contract came an end to their hiding. The law that legally constrained them had been lifted by then, but the sentiment hadn’t left, it wasn’t worth the risk. They would be able to start a life together, a real life.

 

“Not sure we’ll be able to find a white picket fence in D.C.” Riley would say as they strapped themselves into their wings, small talk, Sam had learned over the years, was Riley’s escape when faced with a life or death situation.

 

“Can’t in many cities.” Sam would reply, not wanting to continue the rural debate for the eight billionth time.

 

“You can take the boy out of the city.” Riley retorted, smiling when he got a roll of the eyes from Sam.

 

“Good, got my good luck charm.” Riley gave Sam a wink. His name lost it’s luck as they grew their love. Sam took over that symbol, and it was a heavy weight to bear, but he would if it got Riley flying any better.

 

With his skill set, Sam didn’t think he’d need that, didn’t allow himself to even consider it.

 

Sam knew what it was like to fall, he had done it a lot, especially in the beginning. He knew how it felt inside and out. Everything goes quiet, even if it’s your pack malfunctioning. A sound loud to others is silent to you. Your heartbeat becomes the only thing that matters as if your ears are listening to it for the last time. When panic sets in you can feel your chest rising and falling heavily, though your lungs still feel like you can’t get air. You can’t even take the time to apologize for your wrongs in life because you’re too busy begging for any god to consider what you did right and have mercy.

 

That, that feeling, wasn’t falling.

 

Standard rescue missions were a breeze, second nature to them. They knew how to approach them, get in get out, and get back. Riley was taking lead, his voice steady as always over the radio. The skies were quiet, they were peaceful. They were home. There were others, but it felt like it was just them.

 

That feeling of tranquility, that quiet sky should have been a warning. An omen. He read the Odyssey in high school, he should have listened. He couldn’t remember where his mind was, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t. He couldn’t remember what he was thinking and sometimes what they were doing.

 

All he could remember was Riley was there, not far from him when he lit up the sky. First, it just hit his pack, the flames and smoke searing into his mind and that’s when everything stopped. He knew he was saying something, but it didn’t register until his ears stopped ringing.

 

“I love you, I love you, I---” Sam heard on the other end once he heard his own pleas.

 

Once the static registered Sam just sat there, watching where Riley had disappeared to. The constant “Falcon One, respond. Falcon one respond.” Becoming background noise to his own begging.

 

“Please,” he heard himself gasp out once his ears quit ringing for the second time. “Please, Riley.”

 

Falling was a lot longer than flying.

 

Once Sam got home it was like a daze. He moved around like the world was black and white. The whole “colors aren’t the same, tastes aren’t the same” was real. His past had become something he had pushed so far out of his mind that he lost his identity. He buried himself at Riley’s funeral.

 

He went through the motions like a robot, his movements, statements, and actions day in and day out were the same for months. He was grieving for both him and Riley.

 

 His healing came when he realized how selfish he was being. As many times he begged whoever would listen to take him instead, his misery was what saved him. Every day his luggage would shrink with one thought.  
  
“I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy,” Sam told his therapist, the first person he had really talked to since he had gotten back half a year prior.

 

“Let alone the person I loved. I am glad it wasn’t Riley. I’m glad it was me. He is too good for this feeling. He’s too good to be miserable all the time.”

 

Once he realized that, that he was allowed to be sad, and allowed to be angry but had to stop wishing so much on others, because of Riley, he was someone else’s wish. He was someone on the other side’s wife or husband. He was the person that their prayers sacrificed.

 

As soon as Sam could seriously tell himself no matter how hard he tried, or what he said he couldn’t have saved Riley that’s when his misery was pushed into his fanny pack. Years of downsizing his grief into two dogs tag he kept hanging side by side on his wall, his monuments of a broken man.

 

Sam would never fly again, and the years it took to heal shaped his mind to believe that was okay. He never got his white picket fence, he never took the boy out of a city. He didn’t have to because although he would always have a clover-shaped hole in his heart, it led him to help others; to downsize their grief, to survive the aftermath of having to leave a big piece of themselves wherever they served.

 

 

Healthy habits were what Sam would always advise others to do. As much as he rolled his eyes at the beginning of his own treatment, his running habit never left him. It cleared his mind.

 

For a year he ran the same path, every morning, at the same time. No problems, just helping him downsize a little more mentally.

 

Then, when Sam expected the rest of his life to continue on the same path of intermediately broken, three polite words from a character that popped out of his history book turned into a playful mock changed everything.

 

“Need a medic?” The other man asked him as Sam’s hand rested gently on his aching side from over exhaustion. He wasn’t as young as he used to be.

 

“I need a new set of lungs, dude, you just ran like thirteen miles in thirty minutes.” Sam didn’t move from his spot on the floor, he could appreciate the other’s physic and lack of perspiration from his seat of comfortable pine needles. Superhero serum was a cheat in his book.

 

“I guess I got a late start.” Sam couldn’t help but smile at that one. Flirtation was always nice.

 

“Really?” He knitted his eyebrows. “You should be ashamed of yourself. You should take another lap.” He closed his eyes momentarily, his breath still not catching up to him. “Did you just take it? I assume you just took it.”

 

“What unit you with?” The man asked, his open posture leaving little room for doubt that he wasn’t flirting. No man puts his hands on his hips like that after blatantly attempting to get someone’s attention.

 

“58th pararescue, but now I’m working down at the VA.” Sam was a little offended at the fact he wasn’t even breathing heavily if he was being completely honest. He put his hand up with a slight, but obviously sassy wave of his hand to be helped up, which the man took no time to accept with a tight grip.

 

“Sam Wilson.”  
  
“Steve Rogers.” Sam groaned, leaning over for a moment, already feeling his muscles scream at him.

 

“I kind of put that together.” He smiled as he finally straightened himself out with a sharp inhale. “Must have freaked you out, coming home after the whole defrosting thing.” Granted, that wasn’t very flirty or great small talk, however, he was still in the process of defrosting his skills.

 

Steve looked away for a moment, his face scrunching in thought before he looked back at Sam, “Takes some getting used to.” He agreed.

 

Sam nodded with a small smile, replicating his hands on hips posture. Perhaps that would be a sign of his shared interest.

 

“Well, it was good to meet you, Sam.” Apparently not.

 

“It’s your bed, right?” He panicked as Steve began walking away. Didn’t even take a man to dinner before he brought up his bed. Real classy.

 

“What’s that?” Steve turned around, obviously extremely confused.

 

Talking about his bed and psychoanalyzing in one sentence, he was on a roll.

 

“Your bed… It’s too soft. When I was over there, I slept on the ground. Used rocks for pillows like a caveman. Now I’m home, lying in bed is like--” “Lying on a marshmallow. Feel like I’m going to sink right through the floor.”

 

Sam smiled in response. The fact that he could understand and didn’t just think he was some nut was comforting but also unsettling. A lot of things had changed since Steve was around, but one thing that never changes is war, at least not for the better.

 

“How long?” He asked, his previous demeanor of flirtation gone with the topic.

 

“Two tours… You must miss the good ‘ol days, huh?” Once again, perhaps not the best question but he wanted to get to know the real Steve Rogers, not the two-dimensional guy in a star-spangled suit from Mrs. Combs 11th grade American History textbook.

 

“Well,” His smile gave Sam that feeling in his stomach he thought would never return. “Things aren’t so bad.Foods a lot better. We used to boil everything. No polio is good. Internet, so helpful. Been reading that a lot, trying to catch up.” Sam smiled, he was human and even better looking in person.

 

“Marvin Gaye, 1972, Trouble Man soundtrack. Everything you missed, jammed into one album.”

 

“I’ll put it on the list.” Steve pulled out a pad and pen, jotting down the soundtrack then moving to another page and writing on it before ripping it out, getting sidetracked by his phone.

 

“Alright Sam, duty calls, thanks for the run… If that’s what you want to call running.” Sam’s face expressed his feelings perfectly: pleasantly surprised.

 

“Oh, so that’s how it is?” Sam took his hand for another firm shake.

 

“Oh that’s how it is.”

 

When their hands separated Sam felt the paper left behind and kept it in his hand instead of bringing attention to it.

 

Once Steve had retreated into his car with Natasha Romanoff (which of course no matter how much they hit it off he had to flirt with her, once in a lifetime opportunity and leave Steve wanting more) Sam opened the paper.

 

‘If you wanted to help me finish my list:  
917-204-1920  
-Steve’

 ___ 

Sam thought that he would never fly again. He had no reason to in both senses. Steve gave him more reasons than one. Thanks to him, Sam remembered what it was like the fly. The exhilaration and constant anticipation of soaring in the unknown tickled the back of his neck in a way that was almost ominous. The feeling of total vulnerability. He felt like the first man to explore the skies, that he was an astronaut of his own planet. The surface of the earth no longer his home.

 

The skies were his pasture, and he was learning, one step at a time, how to once again, be its shepherd.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading and listening! I hope you enjoyed this and all the other amazing and artists and writers for our beloved Sam's birthday.


End file.
